


Short Stories of the Dominion

by knownvalues



Category: Hero Wars (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27724979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knownvalues/pseuds/knownvalues
Summary: Each warrior has their own story, their own tale, their own backgroundAfter all, heroes aren't born, they're made.
Kudos: 2





	Short Stories of the Dominion

**Author's Note:**

> Grimnir is my personal name headcanon for Faceless before he joined the Dominion
> 
> TW: Nongraphic death (but it does happen) and general angsty feel

Morrigan had taken up the habit of visiting her father's grave every day, sometimes twice or more if she felt especially lonely. Ravens flocked by the dozens around Corvus' tombstone, mourning the loss of their leader. Not that she blamed them. Sometimes she too wished she could sprout wings and fly, fly away from the grief that the town brought her. Grief in the memories of what she could no longer have: her father's company.

Head in her shaking hands, she knelt slowly and stared at the stone, engraved with the words "Corvus, father to Morrigan and warrior of the Dominion." A picture of the two of them was placed in front of the grave, plus a woman she recognized from stories as her mother. A twinge of anger sparked in her heart, for she had never had the chance to meet her mother. 

"You were so brave," she mumbled, chuckling sadly at the way he would have wielded his staff, eyes a blazing flame. Many expected him to be rough, uncaring, thanks to his appearance. But Morrigan knew the truth; how could she not? Having spent her whole life under his protection? 

"I miss you, father. We all do." 

\-----------

"Madam, I don't think you quite understand the price that bringing him back would require--" the draconian wizard started, flinching when a fist was brought down on the table, hard.

"Do i LOOK like I care what it costs? I want my father back, please," Morrigan demanded, rubbing her eyes to stop any more tears from falling. "You have a son. Surely you must understand the pain I've dealt with. The pain Jorgen would have if you died." The wizard sighed, standing up and revealing the emblem on his cloak. Necromancer.

"Very well. Grimnir, come here," he called, turning to the door on the other side of the room. A cloaked creature floated in, face shielded by an opaque mask with eye-holes that revealed a swirling red and purple gaze. Masked one, she recalled, was what that name meant. Seemed fitting. But what was this creature? From the looks of it, they didn't have any legs... or body for that matter. Just arms and a head, covered by a dark purple cloak edged with gold. 

They murmured something in a language that Morrigan couldn't understand, but the wizard soon translated it as "look at him and hold your hands out."

She followed the instructions, frowning when Grimnir grasped her hands tightly with their-- his?-- his own.

Slow chanting filled the room, speeding up after a few seconds as he gripped her even tighter, to the point of it being slightly painful, but whatever was procedure. Morrigan didn't even have time to register the searing pain in her chest before she was collapsing sideways, legs failing to operate properly. The impact of her head hitting the floor must have been enough to knock her out cold, because her vision blacked out in record time.

\----------

"Morrigan, my sweet daughter, my pride and joy. Why?" a man questioned. She gasped, slowly wobbling to her feet-- and finding that they weren't quite as they had been before. Where skin was once an enviable pale, it was now a sickly blue colour. Her eyes lit up at the skeletal man standing in front of her, arms outstretched in embrace and face concerned.

"Father!"


End file.
